The Couples' Retreat
by darcyfarrow
Summary: Archie brings the Nolans, Emma and Hook, and the Golds in for a weekend couples' therapy retreat. The Nolans just want to reignite the spark, but Emma and Hook are considering taking their relationship to the next level, and the Golds need a lot of help to mend their broken marriage. For #amonthlyrumbelling. Be forewarned: Not Hook friendly.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N. For #amonthlyrumbelling. The prompt was "Belle has the dagger and Rumple takes it back." My goal is to create a 3-chapter story, with each chapter fulfilling a month's prompt.**

* * *

"May I have your attention?" Archie clasped his hands together in a gesture that was both humble and peace-inspiring, and all six of the guests set down their coffee, tea or cocoa to look up and listen. "I think we're ready to get started. If you'll follow me into the parlor?"

On a little get-away. That was what the couples had told their friends and co-workers: just a little weekend get-away to relax after the hellacious year they'd had. And everyone agreed, from the dwarfs who agreed to take on deputy duty to Ariel and Eric, who volunteered to assist Henry in babysitting Neal, to Regina, who for the next two days would tend the circulation desk (and gods help anyone who dared return a book late).

Nobody had volunteered to keep the pawnshop open. Nobody had given it a thought.

In actuality, this was an experiment, as Archie readily admitted. He'd borrowed the concept from a LWM (as the Storybrookers had come to refer to the Land Without Magic) professional journal. He'd studied the literature, took an online crash course, and he felt ready to lead a weekend that, he believed, could help a few of his clients who'd been attending both individual and couples therapy with him. "A couples weekend," he called it. "A chance to learn from one another. And to see that, as different as each of us is, in matters of the heart, we have so much more in common."

And so, after some hemming and hawing from Emma and Rumple, who thought relationship issues should be a private matter, not food for group chatter, they came out to the Sorcerer's Mansion, nestled in a spacious, private lot outside of town and on the edge of Mills Lake. The fresh air and greenery, along with catering by Granny's and maid service, complete with mints on the pillows of the turned-down four-poster beds, put everyone at ease. Almost everyone. _Relatively_ at ease.

They followed the good doctor into the grand parlor, where a cheery fire crackled in the fireplace and plush couches and chairs waited to provide physical comfort so that the guests could concentrate on their emotional discomforts. Archie had even scattered cushions on the floor near the fireplace, should his clients prefer to stretch out. In fact, if things went as he hoped, he planned to suggest they all relax on those cushions, this evening after supper, with the fireplace and candles offering the only light. Sitting on the floor, he'd found, could be a great equalizer.

For now, though, they made use of the furniture, the order of their seating a mirror of the way by which they'd driven to the mansion: Snow and David on the couch, within arm's reach of each other, just as they'd ridden here in David's F150; Hook and Emma on the love seat, their thighs pressed together and his arm draped casually (possessively? Archie wondered) across the back of the seat, almost touching her but granting her a little bit of personal space, much as they'd come here in Emma's cramped Bug. And the Golds (Archie still thought of them that way, had hopes that eventually Belle would take back her married name and her wedding ring; Rumplestiltskin had never taken his off) sat across from one another in wingback chairs, with a coffee table between them and the love seat and the couch on either side.

Archie stood in the middle. "Thank you for coming, for agreeing to take a chance on this experiment. I'm going to ask you to do some hard work this weekend, but I promise you, if you participate fully and honestly, you'll find the results are worth the effort. I have just two ground rules: everything that is said or done here, stays here."

Heads nodded and Hook murmured, "Of course" while David echoed, "Goes without saying."

"The second rule is: tell the truth. You have the right to decline answering any of the questions you feel are too intrusive or harmful, even if they come from me, and if you refuse, no one will challenge you on it. But if you answer, you will answer honestly, not just telling the truth, but answering completely. You have the right to refuse to participate in any of the exercises, no pressure. When you do participate, you'll do so honestly and completely. Do we all agree?" He scanned their faces one by one, seeking a nod or a reply, and when everyone had agreed to his terms, he released a pent-up breath and pulled up a desk chair and seated himself on its edge, clasping his hands on his knees. "Good. Each couple here is at a different stage in their relationship and faces a different set of challenges: rekindling a long-term relationship"—he nodded at the Nolans—"deciding whether to move forward into marriage"—he nodded at Hook and Emma—or deciding whether to continue the marriage at all." His smile vanished as he glanced to his left, at Belle, and to his right, at Gold. "But I've found that all relationships can benefit from adding new communication tools to their tool belt.

"So let's begin. This is a simple exercise, a warm-up, really; sort of a quick check of communication skills. I want you to stand." He demonstrated. "Face your spouse—or significant other, as the case may be. Yes, that's all right." He walked among them, touching their arms lightly in reassurance. David grabbed both of Snow's hands and winked at her. Emma stuffed her hands into her jeans and cocked her head as Hook bit back a chuckle. "Go on, I dare you," she muttered. As they eyed each other, she blinked first and burst out laughing. Hook reached out to squeeze her elbow and she gave in, linking her fingers through his.

"It's okay to laugh," Archie nodded at them. "I know it feels kind of silly at first, just standing there, looking at each other, so laugh if it makes you comfortable. Touch, if you feel like it." He crossed the room to stand between the Golds, who were neither smiling nor touching; from their body language an outsider would brand them as the couple most likely to fail, but Archie knew them better than that. From the longing in Gold's eyes and the softness in Belle's, he knew they were touching just as much as the Nolans were, just not with their hands. Archie gave them some space, returning to the center of the room.

"All right. I asked some of you to bring a certain something with you, something that has special meaning to you. Would you show those items now, please."

Though she looked a little puzzled, Emma dug her car key from her jeans pocket and dangled it from one finger. Snow brought out a tiara from her shoulder bag and held it in her open palm for all to see. Rumple reached into his suit jacket and produced his dagger, which he held up, but close to his chest, in a tight grip. Knowing its recent history, no one in the room would blame him for being possessive of the knife, though Hook and Emma winced slightly. They visibly relaxed when Gold tilted the knife and they could read his name—not their own—engraved in the blade.

"Did you wonder why I asked you three to bring an object, but I didn't ask your spouses?" Archie continued.

"Because they have magic?" Hook guessed.

"Except for Snow," David corrected.

"You're close. Because of their magic," Archie gestured to Emma and Gold, then to Snow, "or in Snow's case, because she was the queen, they're perceived as the stronger partner—"

"Oh, wait now," Snow protested. "Ours is a marriage of equals. Even in the Enchanted Forest, we ruled together."

"Not exactly," David debated, softening his tone to avoid an argument. "You were the queen; by law and by birth, the final decisions were yours. As they should have been. You knew a whole lot more about governing than I did. I was just a pretender until you married me."

"However it might have actually been between you, you're _perceived_ by the public as, well, just a little bit more powerful than your spouse. Queen, Savior, Dark One." Archie paced between them. "And you have with you an object that sort of reflects your power."

Emma said dryly, "You told me to bring the key to my Bug."

"Because that car is identifiably you," Snow suggested.

"And because it's your ride out of here." There was bitterness in Hook's voice. "You can hop in that car any time you want and take off. Unlike the rest of us. Leave this freak show behind. Leave me."

"Oh." Emma studied the key. "I guess I never thought of it that way." Then she sucked in a breath. "No, that's not true. I have thought about leaving, lots of times. Just not recently. Now that I've got all of you."

Hook kissed her cheek and Archie congratulated her. "Thank you, Emma, for telling the complete truth. Now, those of you who have an object, I want you to hold it up, hold it tight in your grip. And the rest of you, your task is to take that object."

They blinked at him a moment, trying to work out his instructions. He just smiled and looked at his pocket watch. "You have five minutes. Begin."

Hook rubbed his hand on his trousers, his eyes fixed on the prize. "Okay then. Come on, Emma, let's win this thing."

"I don't think it's a contest, Killian," Snow objected.

"Sure it is. Everything in life is." He seized Emma's wrist. "Don't mean to hurt you, love, but I want that key." He pulled her arm toward him, but without a second hand, he couldn't hold her still and pry her fingers open at the same time.

Emma saw the frustration and embarrassment rise in his eyes, and she solved the problem for both of them. "Hey. Over here." She yanked on her captured arm, dragging him a few steps toward the coffee table. "Wrestle you for it." She dropped to the floor on one side of the table. "On your knees, Captain."

"I like how that sounds, love." He knelt on the other side and reached across the table to seize her unoccupied hand. "In fact, tonight when everyone's asleep, I'm going to hold you to it."

For a few minutes, they watched their daughter the princess arm-wrestle a one-armed pirate, then Snow nudged her husband. "Let's not fall behind. Go ahead, Charming, make me give you my tiara."

Uncertain, David cleared his throat. "All right, I, ah. . . .Snow. . . Mary Margaret. . . wife. . . beautiful mother of my child, would you please give me your tiara?"

She folded her arms. "You've got to do a lot better than that."

He proceeded to flattery, cajoling, then outright begging, but her arms remained folded and her face grew bored as his reddened. Finally, he threw his hands in the air. "Aw, come on, Snow! We're supposed to be a team! What happened to togetherness? Cooperation? Sharing?"

She giggled. "You'd look silly in my tiara, David."

"Give it to me!" He thrust his hands on his hips.

"No! It's mine!"

"Snow!"

"No! It's all I have of my mother."

His eyes lit up at the clue. "Ah ha! Well, may I remind you, Your Majesty, that that ring your wearing is all I have left of my mother, yet I gave it to you because that's how much I love you."

Her face softened. "Well. . . ." She unfolded her arms and examined her wedding ring. "I guess it's only fair. . . ."

"I won't keep it, I promise. Just until the end of the exercise. Then I'll give it right back."

"Well. . . ." With a last long look at the tiara, she huffed a little, then presented him with the tiara. Grinning, he held it up for all to see, though actually only Archie was watching; the other couples were busy with their own tasks. David did a little jig around the room with the tiara riding at a tilt on his head.

"David Thomas Nolan!" Snow snapped, bringing his jig to an abrupt halt.

"Sorry, honey," he shrugged, carefully removing the tiara. He held it reverently. "I got carried away because we won."

"Did you?" Archie asked.

"We beat them," Snow pointed at her daughter and the pirate, who were now rolling around on the floor, their arm-wrestling having degenerated into something less organized.

"And them," David pointed at the Golds.

"Did you?" Archie repeated.

"Look at them, just standing there, staring at each other. They haven't even said a word."

"Yes, they have," Archie argued. "You just couldn't hear it."

The Nolans and Archie turned to watch the silent negotiation unfolding before them. As Gold stroked her cheek with his knuckles, Belle's lips parted, and when with a slight touch of a fingertip he brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she sighed, so softly no one could hear it; they only realized she'd sighed by the rise and fall of her chest. When he brushed a thumb over her lower lip, her hands rose reflexively to grasp his biceps through his D & G jacket. When he pressed his unfettered hand against the side of her face, she stood on tiptoe to whisper something in his ear. Archie could almost make out his answer to her: "Yes, sweetheart, for all time, still."

Gold slipped his closed hand between their bodies, then opened it, letting the dagger lay loose in his palm. "As I promised then, I promise now. Whatever happens in our marriage, I am and always will be yours."

She closed his hand around the dagger hilt. "That dagger belongs to you. I was wrong when I took it from you. So wrong when I used it to control you. I won't do it again, not even in a game."

"I used it against you too, and I'm sorry." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "So many things I've done wrong. . . ."

"Even if we can't stay together, I want you to know, I love you." Their joined hands held the dagger between their bodies.

"Whatever happens, I love you too."

She moved their joined hands down and back, until the dagger slipped of its own accord into his outer pocket. They released it together, then her arms flew up around his neck and his slid around her waist and they drew each other in. When they kissed, Snow sighed and David murmured, "She threw him out of town. She started dating other guys. He had a fling with the Evil Queen. And yet, here they are. . . . making out like newlyweds. I don't get them."

"You don't have to," Archie reminded them. "As long as they do."

Panting, Emma suddenly appeared at Snow's side. "I won!" she grinned. "I still have the key." She gestured to the Golds. "What's going on here?"

Smoothing down his ruffled hair, Hook came up on David's side. "They seem to have forgot the assignment. They lose."

"I'm not so sure about that," David replied. "Looks to me like they beat the game."

"Now if they can just conquer themselves," Snow said thoughtfully.

Archie smiled as the Golds' kiss continued. "It's a start. It's a very good start."


	2. The Empathy Exercise

**A/N. For #amonthlyrumbelling for March. The prompts were "Icee, pixie, doctor." Archie's next challenge is for the couples to walk a mile in each other's shoes.**

* * *

 **Intermission**

It didn't escape Archie's notice that immediately following the Communication Exercise, as everyone flopped down on the furniture to rest, seating positions changed: Snow and David huddled in conversation, elbow-to-elbow on the couch; Belle and Rumple had confiscated the love seat and were holding hands, glancing at each other in between watching Archie patiently for further instructions; and, having lost their former seat, Hook and Emma had assumed the wingback chairs. They, like the Golds, were watching him and waiting for more, though Emma's foot was jiggling and Hook's eyes were narrowed in thought. Archie relaxed in the desk chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his body language signaling no urgency to move on to the next program. This in itself was a small test, to see who would break the silence first, and how: his money would have been on David—as a leader by nature as well as marriage, he would likely want to move the agenda along—except that jiggling foot of Emma's suggested either impatience or nervousness, and she was very much her father's daughter.

But a squeaking floorboard and a rumbling service cart undercut the silence and Ruby, eyes fixed firmly on the sideboard set up near the desk, pushed into the room, and that woke Hook from his reverie. Pulling thoughtfully on his lower lip, he watched Ruby unload a tray from the service cart and arrange the cups, coffee pot and tea pots prettily on the sideboard. As she'd promised Archie, she resolutely avoided eye contact with the couples: she'd been informed in advance how many guests to expect, and who, so that she could provide for their dietary preferences, but she had promised to ignore anything that was said or done in this room, lest she might be tempted to share her observations with her friends or family. This was a bit of test for her too: she'd been struggling to break her gossip habit.

As Ruby and her service cart vacated the room, Hook released his lip and his breath. "All right, Doctor. What's the right answer?"

Archie raised an eyebrow. "Answer to what, Captain?"

"That exercise you just had us do. The communications exercise."

"There is no 'right' answer," Archie replied. "Just a chance for each of you to see what works and what doesn't in how you communicate with each other."

"Aw, come on," Emma groaned. "I don't buy that."

"Neither do I. Life is a contest. People win, people lose. So what was the right answer?" Hook leaned forward, studying Archie for any indication of surrender.

The psychiatrist shrugged slightly. "There are as many 'right' answers as there are 'right' relationships. What matters is how you interacted with each other, and how you felt about how your significant other interacted with you."

"I still think we won, because I had fun." Hook sat back, as best he could in the straight chair. "How about you, love?"

Emma chuckled. "Yeah, I have to say I did too."

"I feel pretty good about how ours went," David commented. "I mean, it took a little persuasion, but Snow gave me the tiara. That shows trust."

"I've trusted you with my life," Snow reminded him, linking her arm through his. "Many times."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, you have. And my life's been in your care time and again too."

"We always find each other."

Archie spoke gently. "And you, Belle? How do you feel about the outcome of the exercise?"

"Well." She glanced at Gold, blushing. "I guess we messed it up. We kind of got distracted."

"But it still feels as though we won something bigger," Gold said, bringing her palm up to his lips to kiss.

Archie nodded, smiling at them, then smiling at the others. "If you're all happy with the outcome, I'm happy. I will mention, though, a point that seemed to have escaped everyone's notice. I told three of you to hold an object tight, and the other three were supposed to take that object. That was the extent of the rules. There was nothing to stop the takers from simply asking for the object, and the givers to simply release it."

"So a 'please' would've been enough," Snow surmised.

"Yes." Archie stood. "A couple has enough to contend with from the outside world. You need not manufacture conflict within the relationship." He waved a hand toward the sideboard. "Something to think about: marriage is a lot easier if it's approached as a team sport, not a tug-of-war. Coffee break time."

He stood aside as he watched the couples react to his small announcement. "Your usual, dear?" David rose from the couch and held a hand out to Snow, helping her up; hand in hand they made their way to the sideboard and he prepared her a cup, first with two teaspoons of cream, then the coffee, and finally a teaspoon of sugar. Meanwhile, as she prepared his cup, though she tried to be stealthy about it, her eyes roamed the room, in search of something. Archie was puzzled at first, but he caught the words "Neal" in their quiet conversation and that tipped him off: Snow wanted a phone so she could call Ariel and check on the baby. But all the couples had agreed there would be no routine phone calls this weekend, or any other distractions from the outside world, and they'd surrendered their cell phones last night with little complaint after he'd reassured them that the babysitters and the deputy dwarfs could reach them through his phone if there were an emergency.

Archie saw David stroke Snow's arm reassuringly as he handed her her coffee. The father of two was just as nervous as his wife about leaving their six-month-old for the first time, and Archie couldn't really blame them: after all, their son had been kidnapped less than an hour after his birth. Even with Snow's former Royal Guard out there patrolling the streets and Regina's sensors wide open for any magical disturbance, the citizens of Storybrooke had learned the hard way that the worlds were full of power- or revenge-seeking miscreants. The Nolans were right to worry, and in fact since Neal's kidnapping they'd adjusted their work schedules so that one of them could always be home with the baby.

Which was why this weekend was necessary for them, to give them time together—and time to rest.

Their hands tucked into each other's back pockets, Emma and Hook strolled over to the coffee service and filled their plates with finger sandwiches and macaroons. Well fortified, they chatted a bit with the Nolans, Hook getting his future in-laws to laugh at some toned-down but still salty jokes. When their plates were empty, they wandered over to the french doors and pushed them open to admire the (magically) blooming garden. A breeze carried their laughter back throughout the deep room.

Archie pursed his lips as he watched them. Emma needed the laughter. She'd carried a tremendous burden on her young shoulders ever since she arrived in Storybrooke. Leaning against the door jamb, Hook appeared, as always, at ease and confident, but Archie knew a different story. Avoidance and denial were Hook's burdens: responsibilities he'd ducked, guilt he hadn't yet accepted but needed to, if he were to deal with his past. His charm was a much-needed ice breaker for him and Emma, but they both had a long way to go before they could match the level of trust and understanding that her parents enjoyed.

The doctor shifted his gaze back to the sideboard, where Belle, nibbling nervously on a cucumber sandwich, cast those same searching eyes about the room. Recognizing the look, Snow touched her elbow and spoke lowly; though Archie couldn't make out what was said between them, he noticed the tension release from Belle's shoulders. Nodding, the librarian reached for another sandwich. Archie was pleased to see her eat: the spell that had accelerated her pregnancy had taken a toll on her body, and his first prescription for her, when she and Gold came to him for counseling, was to place her on a restorative diet. Though Mr. Dove and his wife (both over 6-foot-2 and trained in three forms of hand-to-hand combat) were babysitting Gideon and Gold had placed impenetrable wards around the pink house (Regina had thrown her worst magic at them to test their strength), Belle felt the same insecurity as the Nolans. Archie had encouraged the two families to spend time together, under the guise of play-dates for their babies: trauma survivors could help each other in ways that no doctor could. He'd expected the reclusive Rumplestiltskin to balk at the recommendation, but surprisingly, he'd put up no resistance. He'd even brought over a bottle of Tenuta San Guido Sassicaia ($200 Archie had learned from an Internet search) to the first meeting, to accompany Snow's potato salad and David's fried chicken.

Gold was trying, genuinely trying, even in their counseling sessions, though he had to pull the words from his gut, speaking slowly and precisely. Archie appreciated that and had hope for them. Belle, too, had begun to rebuild her trust in Gold when in their first session, she had learned what his truthfulness cost him, physically; pressing his hand against his temple, Gold had admitted that the Dark voices filling his head sometimes made speaking difficult. Concerned, Archie had applied a blood pressure cuff and reported the result to them both: Gold's blood pressure had jumped from its normal rate of 120/80 to 140/90. From that point on, Archie began and ended every session with a blood pressure check and steered the conversation onto safer ground when he noticed signs of pain in his client.

And he was trying now. Though he'd long envied David's youth and muscular good looks, he had gone over to the prince and started what was for him, a casual conversation: something about the best breeds of dogs for a household with small children. Gold even smiled a little as David recalled his own childhood pet.

This was just what Gold needed: plain, ordinary, garden-variety socializing. And maybe, someday, friends.

Archie had hope for all these couples. He had faith in the strength of each of them, regardless of where their relationships might take them: they'd been tested by fire, over and over again, and had come out strong as steel. After five years of mending curse-broken families, he had faith in himself, especially when he felt the power of True Love driving his efforts. And he had confidence in Storybrooke as a nurturer for these families: the community had rebuffed the worst that its enemies could throw at it and had come out wounded but recovering.

Archie clapped his hands. "All right, everyone, let's resume."

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Empathy Exercise**

"Whatcha got next for us, Doc?" His arm draped around Emma's shoulders, Hook urged her away from the french doors and back to her wingback chair. He dragged his own chair alongside hers and dropped down, his booted feet stretched out before him. The other couples resumed their seats as well.

"One of the biggest challenges each of you face is that, although you've faced down many, many threats together, as couples-"

"Cora," Snow blurted.

"George," her husband growled.

"Jeckyl and Hyde," Hook contributed.

"Zelena," Belle spat.

Casting a hasty glance at Belle, Emma put in, "Gideon. Sorry, Belle."

His jaw tightening, Gold corrected, "The Black Fairy."

Emma nodded. "Yes. She was the real enemy."

"Although you've faced down many threats together, as couples and as a community," Archie continued, "and that has helped you to forge strong bonds in your relationships, you are, individually, very, very different from each other. Different educational backgrounds, different economic backgrounds, different social ranks, growing up in different lands, even in different generations. We are shaped in large part by those backgrounds, and they influence our world view, shape how we react to situations and how we respond to each other."

"Are you saying we'd be better off if we'd pick mates that we have stuff in common with?" Emma wondered.

"Not 'better off,' Emma; just that for couples that have similar backgrounds, it's easier to share a point of view. When a couple has more differences between them than similarities, you may have to work a bit harder to understand each other. Over time, as you come to know each other better, you'll be better able to predict how your spouse will react to certain events; you may even come to know why he reacts the way he does. But to be able to feel what he's feeling, to truly empathize with him, that will strengthen your bond to the point where it's unbreakable. As it's been said," Archie tilted his head in recognition toward Belle, "'You can't know what's in a person's heart until you truly know them.' And to do that, you need to walk a mile in his shoes. Unfortunately, we have only our imaginations and our knowledge of our significant other's lives to go on, and so I have a writing exercise that we'll try next-"

Emma interrupted, "No, that's not exactly right. I mean, we have two magic people here, and there is such a thing as, uh, what do you call them, Gold? That spell when Cora made herself look like Archie?"

Gold's mouth tightened. "Glamour spells."

Archie shuddered, remembering. "Ah, yes, well. . . ."

Snow raised an eyebrow. "Emma, are you suggesting that we use magic so we can literally walk in each other's shoes?"

"I don't know about that," David shook his head. "Magic usually causes more problems that it solves."

Hook rested his hand supportively on his fiancee's knee. "Well, I for one wouldn't mind, if it's just for an afternoon, being Emma. If I must become a woman for a day, I can think of no other I'd rather be than the bravest and loveliest in the land."

Emma butted her head against his shoulder. "Thanks, Killian."

"Just what would this entail?" David asked. "I mean, from what I understand, Cora just-" he waved his hand across his body, "made herself look like Archie."

"And Regina and Henry and who knows how many other people," Snow muttered.

"She didn't actually _become_ them. Did she?"

Five heads turned toward Gold for the answer. He squirmed. "It depends on what you mean by 'become.' Obviously, the mind and the soul do not change. Nor, in reality does the body change. What the magic changes is solely the outward appearance of the body. It's a very complicated spell and quite draining for the sorcerer who attempts it."

"But you have, right?" Emma prodded.

"Yes. Though I prefer not to." He cast a guilty glance at Belle.

"You're good at it, right? As good as Cora?"

"I taught her how it's done. She perfected the skill with much practice."

"You could do it for us?" Snow asked. "Make me look like David, and him like me?"

"Do you have enough magic to change all six of us?" David asked.

"Or if I, like, added some of my power to yours-" Emma volunteered.

"That would not be necessary. But understand, it's not a transference, simply a mass illusion. A Los Vegas trick that acts on the eye of the beholder. Your thoughts and feelings are still your own. This won't achieve the empathy Archie is talking about."

"No." Archie rubbed his chin. "Clearly not. I doubt if Cora gained any understanding of her victims' beliefs and emotions by taking on their appearance. But it could be a single step in your spouse's shoes."

"How?" David queried.

"If you walked around town, interacted with people who assumed they were talking to the person you appear to be, you could get a sense of what that person goes through. What the community wants from them, what they expect of them."

"What it's like to be the savior," Emma said with a note of bitterness.

Hook snorted, "Or an ex-pirate when nobody wants to believe the 'ex' part."

Snow glanced over at David. "Or a prince who's expected to fight everyone's battles for them."

He smiled a little in sympathy. "Or a queen who's expected to always have the right words to soothe over every argument."

Archie raised his eyes directly to Gold's. "I think it could be especially insightful for those of you who have been marginalized in this community."

"So you're on board," Hook surmised. "Who else is with us?"

David shrugged. "I'm up for it, I guess, as long as it's just a couple of hours. I've always wondered what it feels like, that connection Snow has with birds."

Snow rolled her eyes. "I suppose I wouldn't mind either, as long as you can guarantee it's temporary. It might be fun to be tall and charming for a day."

"So that's four," Emma counted. "What about you, Belle? You haven't said anything. Would you like to have magic for a day?"

"That wouldn't happen," Gold corrected. "Nothing is transferred with this spell. Hook wouldn't gain your powers, nor would you suddenly know how to pilot a ship or acquire a thirst for rum."

"Could you give her a little magic, though, so she'd get more of the Rumplestiltskin experience? Like that charm you gave Henry to wear when he was under the sleeping curse. A little magic Belle could draw on."

"It. . . might be wise," Archie said thoughtfully. "Some magic she could summon if she needed protection. . . ."

"From any of my enemies she might encounter," Gold spat. "Yes, I suppose it would be wise."

"Maybe you could put controls on it," David suggested. "No accidental magic, like 'I wish you'd shut up' and then the other guy's tongue disappears."

Snow added, "And a time limit, so any magic she casts would wear off after an hour."

"It would be a useful aid, since magic is such a big part of who you are," Archie said.

"We have not yet heard Belle's opinion on the matter," Gold pointed out. "I will not cast this spell or any other upon her unless she wishes it." His voice dropped as he turned to her. "Ever again."

"Thank you, Rumple." Belle sat back on the loveseat, her hands folded as she considered the idea. No one pushed her for a hasty answer. At length, she said hesitantly, "Because magic has been a matter of contention between us, and because my son was born with it, it would be helpful, I think, if I could experience it, just temporarily. But, Rumple, will having magic, even for just an hour or two, change me permanently?"

"You mean, will it corrupt you?" He winced.

She bent her head. "When I held the dagger, I was changed. Corrupted. And permanently, I fear."

"No, Belle." He leaned forward to take her hands, ignoring the others' stares. "You're not corrupted. Your light is just as bright as it's ever been."

"But I fell to the temptation."

"But you picked yourself back up again, and you always will. That's the difference between you and me. Where I need a crutch, your bravery gives you the fortitude to stand on your own two feet. That's your protection."

"You're fighting the temptation," she assured him. "And you're winning."

"Today, I am," he answered. "But tomorrow?"

"All we can control is today," Archie reminded him. "And she's right; you're winning. What do you say, Mr. Gold? Four hours to walk around in Belle's skin, and her in yours?"

Hook snorted. "I'm glad you didn't say 'high heels.' That's a sight I never want to see: Gold in Lumbertons."

"Louboutin's," Snow corrected.

Gold sighed. "All right. Four hours." He stood and moved toward the garden doors, away from the furniture; he positioned himself in front of the doors and waited quietly with his hands folded before him—but little sparks of magic flickering off his fingernails. He said nothing but his stance spoke for him: he was ready, albeit something less than willing.

"How should we do this: one at a time or everybody at once?" Archie asked. "What's easier for you, Mr. Gold?"

Gold's shoulders lifted slightly in his custom-tailored D & G jacket. "As you wish. It makes no difference to me."

Emma leaped to her feet. "Let's do this couple by couple. It'll be more fun." Hook took the hint and joined her, an arm's length away from the master sorcerer. "Ready, Gold."

Gold dipped his head slightly in agreement. "Very well. You will feel a warm tingling as the magic spreads across your skin. It will last less than a minute, and then the spell will be complete. You will not notice a difference until the people around you react to the change. It will aid the illusion if when you talk you try to use the same speech habits and gestures your partner does. But don't bother to try to mimic your partner's voice; the magic will encourage the observer to hear what he expects to hear. If you try to fake it, your imitation will come across as exaggerated. Do you wish to continue?"

"Of course," Hook replied.

Gold didn't move a muscle, but magic surrounded the young couple just the same, momentarily hiding them from view. In those seconds as the spell took effect, Archie wondered about the reason for Gold's reluctance. He suspected it had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with a dread of what he might learn from the experiment—or what Belle might learn. Archie opened his mouth, ready to call it off: maybe Gold was right to be worried. Maybe Belle and Gold weren't the only couple for whom the experiment could be detrimental.

But before he could order a halt, the spell was cast. Emma and Hook had reversed positions: she was now standing on the left, staring at the tip of her ponytail, while Hook was tugging at his black t-shirt.

Gold's quiet voice broke the silence. "How do you feel, Ms. Swan?" But he was looking at Hook.

Emma/Hook patted herself as if making sure all her body parts were still there. "Okay. I don't feel different, but-" Her gaze roamed down her jeans to his boots, then over to her arms. She rubbed the bristle on her chin and whistled in amazement. "Whoa!"

Snow darted to Emma's side and grabbed her arm. "Emma?"

"Sorry, Snow. It's me. Killian."

As David came up on the other side, Snow released the arm she thought belonged to her daughter and leaned across him to gape at the body that appeared to be Hook's. "Emma? Are you okay?"

"Fine, Mom." Emma/Hook grinned cockily. "In fact, I'm devlishly handsome."

"Indeed." Hook/Emma smirked back at her. "And I," he surveyed his new appearance, "am gracefully gorgeous."

"Thank you, Killian." Emma/Hook took his hand.

"I suggest you plan your afternoon out on the town," Gold motioned to the couch. "Over there."

"Gotcha, Gold," Hook/Emma slipped his arm across Emma/Hook's shoulders and winked at her as he led her to the couch. "Just practicing my Emma-isms." Archie sat down beside them for a brief conversation to assure himself that both still wanted to go forward with the test.

Meanwhile, Gold turned his attention to the Nolans. "Do you wish me to-" He wiggled his fingers.

Exchanging a glance, both Nolans nodded. "It's just for an afternoon," Snow confirmed; and David decided, "We'll probably learn from it. Go ahead, Gold."

Again, without blinking, Gold wrapped his magic around them, and in less than a minute the illusion—because it couldn't really be called anything else; no transference or conversion had taken place—had settled around the Nolans. This time the spectators were wiser: Emma and Hook addressed the Nolans correctly as they came up to admire the handiwork.

"Now remember, Emma always folds her arms like this," David demonstrated, while Snow cocked her head to the side, "And when she smiles at Henry, she kind of does this, like she's amazed just to see him."

Belle drew in a deep breath as she joined her husband. "That leaves just us, Rumple." Her smile asked a question that the confidence in her voice belied.

"Just us," Gold agreed. As he took her hands in his, the magic enveloped them.

Gold/Belle conjured three floor-length mirrors and invited the couples to closely examine themselves in them. "Get used to your new look so you won't be startled by the way people look at you. The height difference, for example. You-" he pointed to David-"may feel that they're staring at the tip of your nose, when to them, they're looking Snow in the eye." His eyes twinkled just a little as he turned to Emma. "And don't be horrified when Granny cautions you that 'the scruffy look is over' and offers you a razor." As Emma chortled, he faded to the back. Only Archie noticed that from the side of his eye, Gold was looking over Belle's shoulder at his own, seemingly altered reflection. Archie wondered what he saw: did the magic fool him too?

Touching her new face, Belle leaned into the mirror. "Do you know when I first realized I was attracted to you?"

"Not in the Enchanted Forest days, that's for certain," Gold snorted.

"Yes, it was," she insisted, running a finger along the edge of her new ear. "I'd been in your castle about a week. You'd just come in from a rainstorm and you were standing in front of the fireplace, warming up. You turned around and your hair was plastered down, and for the first time I could see your ears." She smiled into the mirror. "Your sweet, mischievous, pixie ears. And that's when I started to feel butterflies in my stomach any time you walked into the room."

"My. . .ears," he repeated doubtfully.

"Your ears," she repeated firmly. She wheeled and slid her arms around his neck, raising on tiptoe to kiss his earlobe. "Your sweet, mischievous, pixie ears."

Those ears turned bright red. From the corner of his eye, Archie spotted Hook taking close notice of both the compliment and the reaction; the doctor suspected this little affectionate exchange would soon become an ongoing joke.

Archie rescued Pixie Ears. "All right, folks, day's a-wastin'. Split up, go out onto the streets, in opposite directions, and find out what it's like to walk in your spouse's Lumbertons."

* * *

He'd finished updating his notes on the morning's exercise and was skimming the latest online issue of _Journal of Marital and Family Therapy_ when the first participant returned from his/her adventure. Archie had to give himself a mental shake to remember that the tall, blond young man pushing the parlor doors open was in actually a somewhat-tall brunette young woman. Snow White Nolan appeared lost in thought as she gave the psychiatrist a silent nod of greeting, then beelined for the sideboard to gulp down a cup of chamomile. "Welcome back, Snow." Archie made a quick, subtle note in his iPad concerning the time of her return and the expression on her face.

"Hi" was her only answer. He didn't press for more—yet. It was important that her husband be here before she described her experience; this experiment was as much a lesson for the spouse as for the adventurer.

Close on her heels was her daughter, scratching her chin—no, Archie mentally whacked himself: this was the pirate in Swan's clothing. He flopped onto the couch, propping his long legs one atop the other. Small sounds of frustration escaped him, even as he nodded in reply to Snow's offer of a cup of tea. "Lot to think about, Doc," he muttered as he set the cup on the coffee table.

Belle was next to return. The sunny smile she usually had for Archie had been replaced by a chewed bottom lip. Before anyone could strike up small talk with her, she carried her tea to the bay windows that looked out onto the front lawn and white gravel drive, signaling a desire to be left alone with her thoughts.

David bounced in next, head high, steps light and a kiss on the cheek for his wife, who poured him a cup of coffee. "Great exercise, Archie," he boomed from across the room. "Solved a problem I've been mulling over ever since the curse broke."

A snort from behind the couch wondered, "Which curse? Last I counted, there've been five, and that's just since I got here."

"Didn't go so well for you, I take it," David remarked.

Before the pirate could respond, Emma/Hook ambled in. When she opened her mouth to accept her mother's offer of hot chocolate, Snow gasped. "Emma! Your tongue and lips are blue! Archie, is the spell backfiring?"

Emma chuckled. "It's just the coconut and pomegranate Icee I had." She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, then bared her teeth for inspection. "Better?"

"Better," Snow confirmed.

Gold slipped in so silently that Archie didn't hear him until he spoke, in his usual low voice. "I'll lift the spell now, Dr. Hopper. With your permission?"

David/Snow positioned himself in front of the sorcerer and motioned his family over. "Fire when ready, Gridley."

As Belle and Hook joined the group, the former queried, "Who's Gridley?"

"Beats me. Just something I heard in a movie, but I like the sound of it." Before anyone could say more, a whirl of purple magic swept up from the hardwood floor and momentarily blinded them from each other. But, as usual, Gold's magic acted efficiently and in less than the draw of a breath, the illusion fell away. The Charmings and Hook moved over to the mirrors to assure themselves of the restoration, but Belle, utterly confident that Rumple could lift such a routine spell, merely helped herself to a macaroon.

"Very good. Thank you, Mr. Gold. And now, if everyone would be seated again?" Archie resumed occupation of his favorite chair as the others drifted into the seating area. "Let's debrief. Who would like to start?"

David raised his hand. "I will. I want to say thanks for the idea, Archie. Like I said, it cleared up something that had been bothering me for years now."

"I'm glad it was so productive, David. Please describe where you went and who you saw."

"Well." His arm about Snow's shoulders, David relaxed into the couch. "I started back for the sheriff's office. Just habit, I guess. But before I got across the parking lot, Max Grimes stopped me." The deputy explained to Hook, "That's the principal of the elementary school. Of course he thought I was Snow. He started talking about how low a turnout they'd been getting for the PTA meetings and he wanted to know if I—I mean, Snow—had any suggestions. So we chatted a while about that and I said maybe we should hold the meetings on Saturday afternoons instead of Monday nights. I said—speaking from experience—that on a weeknight, it's kind of hard for a parent to go out, you know, after a long day at work and rushing home to pick up the kids and get them fed and bathed and in bed."

"I think you're onto something. Good idea, David," Snow praised.

"Grimes thought so too. I'd just gotten done talking to him when a little kid called to me from across the street. He came running up with a sheet of paper in his hands. It was his math homework. He was having trouble multiplying fractions."

"A fifth grader," Snow surmised. "Most of them have trouble with fractions."

"So do I." David ran a hand through his hair. "I was wishing that we'd done a body swap instead of just a glamour thing, so I could help him. Best I could do was to invite him to come to class a fifteen minutes early on Monday and I—I mean, you—would help him then. Sorry, Snow."

"Nothing to apologize for. That's exactly what I would have done."

"I never did make it into the sheriff's office. There was a mom who wanted to talk about Snow writing a recommendation letter for her kid to get into BU. And one of the nuns said something about collecting used school uniforms for the poor kids in town. There were a couple of others-" he interrupted himself to squeeze Snow's shoulders. "Honey, I know that's nothing out of the ordinary; we get stopped on the street every day, seems like. We just deal with it and go on. But this time it hit me. Snow, do you remember when we were talking about moving back to the Enchanted Forest? I wanted to go and you didn't. Well, I found out today that people really need you here. More, I think, than in the Forest. This is going to sound odd, but—you were a great queen but you're one of a kind as a teacher. The kids here need you. You're the one who teaches them to respect nature. You're the one who teaches them to respect each other. These kids will be sheriffs and doctors and bridge builders and mayors someday, and you're the one who'll prepare them for it."

Snow borrowed a corner of his sleeve to pat away the moisture collecting in her eyes. "Thank you, David. You say a lot of nice things to me, but that's just about the sweetest."

"So you changed your mind, Dad?" Emma brought the conversation back to practicalities. "About going back to the Enchanted Forest?"

David was looking at Snow as he answered. "I did. If that's okay with your mother, I want to stay here."

"It's okay." Snow sniffled. "More than okay." She straightened. "Now it's my turn. I had an educational experience too. I've always known, of course, that the people of Storybrooke depend on David for solving all sorts of problems, whether it's slaying dragons or rescuing cats from trees." She winked at her husband. "Ms. Shoemaker's boxer chased one of Ms. Ginger's tabbies up a tree, by the way. Good thing I still remember from my highwaywoman days how to climb. Anyway, after I got the tabby down—and got repaid for it with claws digging into my arm-"

"Ernestine," David nodded knowledgeably. "She's a biter, too. You escaped the worst of her."

"After Ernestine, I walked over to the park to rest a while, but Sleepy spied me and wanted to know what we're doing about the protection spell on the coastline. He's been reading a book about this mythical ghost ship, _The Flying Dutchman_ , and he's scared to pieces that it's going to appear at our docks and Cora, Cruella, the Black Fairy, Hyde, Hades and a hundred other villains are going to bomb the town."

"He's been having nightmares ever since Dopey got transformed into a tree."

"Tell him to call my office on Monday," Archie encouraged.

"Will do," David acknowledged.

Snow continued, "So I sat with him for over an hour, listening to his dreams. I tried to reassure him that dead is dead, but. . . ."

"The phrase has lost its meaning of late," Belle murmured.

"There was a time," Gold grumbled, "when the rules of magic meant something. Before people like Zelena started disrespecting them."

Archie noticed that at this remark, Belle lowered her head.

"So then I tried to assure him that Emma and Regina and Blue are all working together to tighten up all the various spells shielding this town from intruders. I don't think I convinced him—I'm not sure myself that magic is the answer to our problems—but I did calm him down. I reminded him that we have patrols covering the perimeters of the town, night and day. 'I feel better,' he said, 'with you and Snow and Emma on the job.'"

"As do we all," Archie remarked.

"I found that there are still dragons to be fought, and people still come to their prince to slay them. Even if the dragons come in human form, the people want David to take care of them." Snow smiled proudly at her husband. "So don't put your sword away just yet, Charming."

"I had a similar thing happen," Hook volunteered. "The man who owns Standard Clocks—we haven't been introduced, so I don't know his name—he caught me as I was walking along the docks. He insisted on knowing my—that is, the sheriff's—plan for getting rid of Zelena, Regina and Gold. He was of the impression that that's what a savior is meant to do: slay villains. Or at least drive them out of town. I reminded him that banishment seldom sticks around here."

Gold's mouth tightened in a thin line and Belle reddened.

"That's not very reassuring," Snow said, as David added, "It's not the kind of thing Emma would say."

"What else happened, Captain Jones?" Archie nudged the conversation forward.

"Like father, like daughter, as the saying goes. I went into the Crab King for a bite of lunch and I'd no sooner picked up the menu when I was besieged with requests for assistance, much of it of the magical sort—and not all of it 'requests.' 'Demands' would be a more accurate word. Everything from erecting a stop sign at First Street and Cassidy Lane, to, as one of the nuns expressed it, 'layering the abandoned mine with fairy dust so we can safely imprison the next magic wielding villain who disturbs our peace." He gave Emma an apologetic half-smile. "I do apologize, love, for all the times I 'got pissy,' as you put it, over citizens interrupting our dates with their petty problems. Between enforcing the law and saving our mangy hides, you carry the weight of this town's worries on your slender shoulders."

"She does, indeed," Snow agreed.

"Always glad to be appreciated," Emma quipped.

But Archie suspected that her humor, as it so often did, was a cover for other emotions, and a study of Hook's fingers, tapping on the back of the chair, showed him that Hook was covering up too. "What else, Captain? I get the feeling there's more to your story."

Emma poked her elbow into Hook's ribs. "Tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but, remember?"

"Well," Hook sighed. "We need to have a chat, in private. In all the excitement of defeating the Evil Queen and the Black Fairy, not to mention our engagement, it seems we neglected a rather important matter. . . a question prospective spouses should find agreement on, before the wedding. . . ."

Emma's brows drew together. "Go on."

"Well." He sat up straighter. "I strolled into the pharmacy for a pack of gum, and mistaking me for you-"

"Which was the point of this exercise," David reminded them.

"Our eternally sneezing chemist informed me that your prescription was ready." He reached into his jacket for a small white package and presented it to her.

She peeked inside and shrugged. "My birth control pills. So?"

"He also said that in answer to your earlier question, he'd done some checking and fertility rates do decline after age 35 but your chances of conceiving are still about 78 percent."

"Oh." Emma caught on now, and Archie was just a step behind her. "I was asking—I'm going to be 35 when we get married, and I thought-" she shrugged. "With things settling down here, and Henry in high school-"

"I'd assumed that once Henry graduates, we'd be free to travel-" He rested his hand on her knee. "Emma, there's a big, beautiful world out there, waiting for us to explore. A world free of magic, where you don't have to save anyone. A baby would tie us down-"

"A baby would give us a future." Her voice crept up. "A chance for a normal life. A chance to have what you and me both were robbed of."

"May I suggest we leave this topic for another, private time?" Archie butted in.

"It's not one you can work out in single conversation," Snow reminded them.

"Yeah, good idea," Emma said, and Hook nodded. "A wise decision."

"Wow," David breathed. "This really was a major exercise."

"More than I had anticipated," Archie admitted. "Let's move on. Emma, tell us about your experiences as Hook."

"Well, mostly, it just reinforced what I already knew." Archie detected a thin line of annoyance under her tone; he made a mental note to talk to her alone this evening, apart from Hook. He wasn't worried for her, though; her eyes had been opened to the fact that an engaged couple had numerous questions to resolve before they were ready to become a married couple, and Archie was confident that Emma would make certain all those issues were hammered out before she started shopping for china patterns.

Hook smirked. "What? That I'm devilishly handsome?"

"Yeah." Emma slugged him in the arm. "Emphasis on 'devilish.' And irresistible to women and kids. I had a troop of little boys traipsing along behind me everywhere I went, bombarding me with questions and begging for a ride on _The Jolly Roger_. And a pair of teenage girls that were shopping in Prubeck's came out to the street to stare at me and giggle, like I was a-"

"Movie star," Hook finished for her.

"I was going to say, 'Three-headed hydra,' but okay, 'movie star.' While me and my entourage were standing on the corner, waiting for the crosswalk light to change, Frau Trude came up and started pawing at me, messing with my collar and my medallion—when she started inviting me up to her place for a bottle of Cuban rum, I yanked my shirt out her hands and beat it. Escaped into Any Given Sundae. Forgot that the Goose Girl works there on weekends now-"

"She goes by Amanda now," Snow explained. "She was unanimously voted head cheerleader this year and Most Beautiful Sophomore."

Emma growled, "Should've been voted 'Girl Most Likely to,' from what I saw. She pushed the top of her apron down to show a little cleavage, and then she leaned across the counter to serve me samples of ice cream."

"Ice cream is one of this world's delights." Hook licked his lips. "Those little plastic spoons are so cute."

"Yeah, well, I kinda forgot who I was for a minute there, 'cause I pushed her hand away and ordered a coconut pomegranate Icee, and she said, 'But Captain, you hate Icees.' And I said, 'Yeah, but Emma, _my fiancee_ , loves them, so I thought I'd better get used to them.' So she shrugged and flipped her hair and batted her eyelashes at me while she poured the Icee." Emma shuddered. "I dunno. I knew from the beginning I'd have to put up with this crap if I got involved with you, but it's still damned annoying."

"I'll try to be a little bit resistible in the future," Hook promised.

"When she handed me the drink, she grabbed my elbow and ran her fingers along my wrist, like this." Emma demonstrated with Archie's arm, causing Hook to scowl and Archie to redden. "When I dug into my jeans for some money, she waved it away. 'On the house,' she said. 'Your money's no good here.' That's when Marcie slammed in from the back. 'His money's no good anywhere. It's fake bullion. Put the charge on Emma's tab.' And she stood there glaring at me from behind the counter while Goosie wrote up a bill. 'As soon as he leaves, you and I are going to have a long talk, Missy.' So I took the hint and hightailed it out of there, and I finished my Icee on the bench at the bus stop, all those kids standing around me begging for 'blood-curdling tales of the high seas.'"

Hook managed a blush. "Most people don't realize how much work it is to be a pirate. He must always keep the image up for his public."

"I finished my drink and started walking toward the pier, but that proved to be a bad idea, because the kids who were following me started shouting for other kids to come along because they thought I was going to give them a ride on the _Roger_. So I changed direction and went into Clara's Crafts and started looking at embroidery needles—thanks, Mom, by the way, for teaching me."

"Embroidery calms the nerves," Snow said, then glanced at Archie. "I could teach a class for your patients."

"We'll discuss that later. Thank you, Snow," Archie said.

"My entourage got bored waiting for me and they wandered off. But Clara came over. . . ." Emma paused, chewing on her lip; Archie recognized this as an indication of uncertainty and he gave her the space to decide whether to continue with her story. After a long moment of deliberation, she proceeded, "Clara came over. She said she'd talked to her husband. . . ." She shifted in her seat to face Hook. "See, he has an opening at the bank for a security guard, and I thought—it seems like a good gig, pays well, working daytimes."

"Better than being a part-time bouncer at the Rabbit Hole," Hook concurred, but his shoulders hunched. He shook his head, shaking off his annoyance, then grinned. "It would certainly improve our social life. Well done, Emma. I suppose I'll need a uniform and a firearm?"

"Well," Emma twisted her engagement ring. "The thing is—they, ah, filled the position."

"With whom?"

"It doesn't really matter, Killian."

"With whom, Emma?"

She threw her hands into the air in surrender. "All right. They hired Thumbelina."

Hook's voice fell. "I see. Was it-" He raised his left arm. "Because I'm still quite capable of handing myself in a fistfight or a sword fight, as I've proven more than once here."

"No," Emma assured him. "I know—everyone knows—it's stupid to pick a fight with Captain Hook."

David snorted. "Just ask Will Scarlett."

Hook ran his hand over his chin. "It's the scruff, then. I've noticed people who work in banks and the like have that clean-shaven, button down look."

Emma laced her fingers and stared at her ring. "It's not the scruff. Or your clothes. It's—it's time. I mean, it's a matter of time. The town. . . isn't used to you yet. It took a while for them to warm up to me too. They're not used to strangers. You've got give them time to get to know you."

"You mean, they don't trust me."

Silence filled the room until Emma finally nodded and added, "But they will. Give them time. You've done so much for this town already; they've seen that. They just need time for it to sink in."

"They will come around," Snow contributed. "Being accepted is still a struggle for Regina, too. But you'll both get there."

"I could talk to a few of the guys," David volunteered.

"Thank you, mate, but I think Emma's right: I need to prove myself to them. And I will."

Emma hung her head. "There was something else." She kept twisting her ring, until at last she lifted her left hand. "This."

Hook raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation, so Emma prompted, "I walked past Joan of Diamonds, and she grabbed me and hauled me inside."

"Oh."

Archie interceded, "We can stop there, if you prefer."

"No, I suppose-" Hook looked at David. "You're going to find out sooner or later. I owe money on the ring."

"How much? Maybe I can-" David's offer was interrupted by a jab from Snow's elbow.

"Suffice it to say, I'm a bit behind in payments. I, ah, expected to have employment by now. I made a deal with Joan. . . ." It was his turn to sigh. "You're right, love, about trust being a problem. Joan wouldn't make a deal with me until one of her clerks reminded her who it is I'm marrying. . . and who her parents are. It wasn't what I would have preferred, but that ring was so perfect for you, and it would take me years working at the cannery to save up for it. So I took advantage—I traded on the Charming name. Merchants may not trust me yet, but they are as certain of the Charming family as they are of the sun rising in the morning."

With a quick glance at Belle, Gold intervened. "I could make you a loan. Or buy out your loan from Ms. Diamond."

"Let me guess," Emma muttered. "She owes you a favor."

"Thank you, no," Hook curled his lip at the pawnbroker. "I'm sure a loan from you would cost an arm and a leg."

"No interest. You and Regina are not the only ones struggling to change," Gold admitted. "I don't care what others think of me, but my son and my wife live here too."

"So," Emma said slyly, "accepting a loan would be doing you a favor."

"In a way. I suppose." Clearly, he wasn't too pleased about the change in perception of his offer, nor about even making the offer, but when Belle rewarded him by resting her head against his arm, his smile became genuine.

"In that case, I accept." Hook appeared rather pleased with himself—as well as relieved.

"We'll find you a good job," Emma promised before turning back to Archie. "So I learned what it's like on both sides of the fence: being fawned over by a gaggle of fans and being mistrusted because of your past. Apparently, it's harder being Captain Hook than anyone would think. End of report, Doc."

"Very good. Thank you, Emma. And that brings us to the Golds. Who would like to go first?"

To everyone's surprise, the pawnbroker spoke up. "I would, if it's all right with you, sweetheart." At Belle's nod, he began. "Actually, this lesson taught me nothing about Belle; it merely confirmed what I already knew, that, much as with Mr. and Ms. Nolan, she is well regarded and much needed in this town. Loved, in fact. But that doesn't surprise me in the least."

Belle blushed, but Archie pressed for details.

"Everywhere I went, I was welcomed." Gold shook his head in wonder. "I was hugged more in one afternoon than in a lifetime. . . ." His jaw worked as he fought back emotions. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, remembering that Modern Fashions had called yesterday about a dress that was ready to be picked up, I went there first. The counter clerk-"

"Melanie," Belle provided.

"Rushed out to the floor to hug me and she promptly invited me to the back for tea with the dressmaker-"

"Amelia."

"She sat me down at the workbench and I chatted with Amelia as Melanie prepared the tea. She remembered that Belle has been craving peppermint tea, no sugar, ever since Gideon was born."

Belle grinned. "She always remembers."

"And she remembered that your birthday is coming up next month, and she asked if we would be doing something special. I told her we have no plans yet, so she and Amelia invited me—that is, you—to lunch that day, if you're available. They asked after Gideon and were disappointed that I didn't have my phone with me, so I promised I'd show them photos next time. They said I—Belle-was looking great and seemed to have added a few much-needed pounds. Amelia took my measurements to confirm it and said she'd let the dress out a little. It will be ready on Tuesday."

"Thank you," Belle said.

Gold ducked his head. "And then they asked after my husband. They seemed to know we're working on our relationship."

"Honey, the whole town knows we're all working on our relationships," Snow sniffed. "And yours is one of the most interesting."

Gold raised his eyes to Belle's. "They wished us well. They said any time you need someone to talk to, just call. They've both been through rough times with their spouses." His eyes widened. "They said they hope we can work it out, because. . . because we're good for each other. Both of us, good for each other."

"They're sweet women and good friends." Belle linked her arm through his, then answered his unspoken question. "And they might be right."

"And, they said, even in infancy, a child needs its father too." He swallowed hard. "I mentioned that the reverse is true as well. We chatted then about dresses and books, and then I paid for the dress and went on about my way. I checked on the library: Regina was raising cain with the Old Lady in the Shoe about all the books her children have lost. Had the poor woman in tears."

"I'll speak to her on Monday. Those children need books."

"Marco was browsing the cookbooks and kept asking Regina for suggestions, but Madame Mayor just grunted at him. 'How should I know? Hire a cook, like I do.' And there was a study group asking for you, five teens who are preparing to take college entrance exams."

"I'm glad Regina got to see all that," Belle chuckled. "She'll think twice about cutting the library's budget."

"It's you, sweetheart, more than the books or the computers. It's you they need. I went into Granny's next and as soon as she heard my—your-voice she came out from the kitchen and threw her arms around me. 'How's the therapy going?' I explained that we were on a break for the afternoon but that it was going well. She thrust her fists onto her hips and looked me up and down, and she said I was looking better. She said when you and I first split up, it was a race as to which would bring me down first: lack of sleep or lack of a good meal. She said she doesn't trust Rumplestiltskin farther than she can throw a dragon, but he does seem to be taking a page from Regina's book and behaving himself better. Then she offered to loan you her crossbow if I screw up."

"Granny," Belle chuckled. "What would this town be without her?"

"I ordered pancakes—Belle, when I went to pay, the ticket was half as much as I expected. She's been overcharging me all these years. In the hour I was in the diner, I was invited to two birthday parties, a fundraiser for the animal shelter, and a retirement party. I made six book recommendations and agreed to speak to Mr. Hemingway's tenth grade English class on Friday—about F. Scott Fitzgerald. I was hugged, complimented and kissed, no more or less than to be expected in a typical day for Belle French Gold. I learned nothing new about Belle in all this."

"But?" Archie prompted.

"But the experiment uncovered a weakness in me. It seems, after all these years, I enjoy hugs. Even from overcharging cafe owners."

"You're human, Mr. Gold. Humans need touch as much as they need air," Archie said.

"Perhaps." The pawnbroker fell silent and Archie took the hint to end the conversation. They could discuss this further in private.

"That leaves you, Belle."

She cleared her throat as her expression shifted from worry to—Archie wasn't sure, but he thought he saw fear. But then she dug her fingernails into the loveseat's upholstery and her eyes flashed at Snow. "We have to do something about Zelena."

"What?" The former queen was puzzled.

"You think she's changed but she hasn't. Not enough, anyway. She's still wicked and dangerous, and I fear for my son as long as she's in this town."

"Did she threaten Gideon?" Gold barked.

"She's behaved herself of late," Snow thought. "Regina's vouched for her, but. . . ."

"Did she make threats, Belle? I can arrest her if she did," Emma said, "but unless she's actually broken the law in the last six months, the city council voted to give her a second chance and I have to go by that."

"No. I don't know." Belle fought against herself. "She said things-"

Archie crossed the room to kneel beside her, taking her hand, as Gold slid his arm around her shoulders. "Start at the beginning, Belle," Archie urged. "David, would you bring her a cup of tea?"

Belle drew in a deep breath. "Okay, first I walked along Chatam Street. It's always quieter than Main Street and Rumple likes to come down to the shop from home that way. There were some kids playing kickball in the empty lot across from the Hotchkiss Dance Studio. When they saw me coming down the sidewalk, they pointed at me and yelled. 'Run!' they said. 'He eats kids! My mom said so.' Mikey Patterson said that Rumple crawled through his bedroom window and tried to kidnap him last week."

Gold shook his head.

"And Frankie Patterson said that the Black Fairy is still alive and Rumple's plotting with her to turn everyone into statues."

"Kids have wild imaginations," Snow explained apologetically. "The Patterson boys especially."

"As I got closer, they turned and ran. I crossed the block and saw Bessie Barwell hanging out her wash. I waved to her, but she—well-" Belle elevated her middle finger.

"Bessie plays the ponies, not successfully. My loan saved her from Danny Devine, but put her in debt to me."

"As I walked along the street, people closed their window blinds or slammed doors or turned the other way. Except for a few who just stood there and stared."

"Captain Jones is not the only resident with town trust issues," Gold admitted. "It played in my favor in the past, but that was before you and Gideon."

"Most of the town sees you're changing too, Mr. Gold. They will come around," Archie said.

"This could not have been a surprise to you, Belle. You did know when we married how the town feels about me. Lord knows, we've had enough such streetside encounters."

"No, it didn't surprise me, but I _felt_ it. For the first time, I felt it from your perspective. It felt weird, both awful and good at the same time. The way people were reacting to me, I felt powerful and—kind of safe. Like they wouldn't dare mess with me, you understand, Archie? But then right away I felt conflicted. Not everybody thinks ill of me, I thought, but hardly anyone thinks well. And I worried what Gideon would have to cope with as he grows up." She glanced over at her spouse. "And I felt bad for myself, because other than Dove, I don't have anyone I can just sit down with and have coffee, you know? I learned that you never get used to loneliness. Even Rumplestiltskin needs friends."

"Perhaps so," Gold allowed.

Belle clenched her fists. "And then I walked up to Second Street. I thought I'd pop in to Ichiro's. Rumple loves their green tea ice cream. But you know Rapunzel's Salon is next door, and Zelena was coming out. She saw I was alone and so was she, and I guess she took advantage of that. She sashayed up to me and made some snide comments about a rumor going round that Child Protective Services is planning to take Gideon away unless. . . ."

"Unless I remove myself from his life and yours," Gold finished. "I've heard those rumors too. Don't fear them, Belle. It's just vicious talk."

"We won't let them take your kid," Emma said with some venom. "Not from either of you."

"While she was railing at me, that's what I was thinking," Belle said. "I reminded myself, in this world, Gold is a lawyer with an expertise in family law. He'll fight tooth and nail to keep his son. But a small voice deep inside cried, 'Not another one. I can't lose another child.' She saw she was getting to me and she laughed."

"The bitch," Emma muttered.

"I felt the magic come pouring through my skin. My fingers burned with it. My mind went blank and I started to reach for her throat—then I heard a dog bark somewhere and that kind of woke me up. I walked away from her."

Snow stood and with folded hands, addressed the Golds. "Let me assure you, no one will take that baby away from you."

"Least of all, Zelena," David's voice shook as he came to his wife's side.

"She's screwing with you, mate," Hook suggested. "She's wicked. That's what she does."

"I'm going to have a talk with Ms. Green," Snow decided. "With the mayor present. As a city councilwoman, I'll let the witch know that we don't appreciate her shaking up our town with foul rumors. And I'm going to remind her that we don't cherry pick forgiveness. Those who will work for it will receive it."

"Right now she doesn't seem to be doing much work," Emma sniped.

"You might feel alone in this town, but it doesn't have to be that way," David said to Gold.

Archie folded his arms as he surveyed his clients. "You have allies, Mr. Gold, perhaps for the first time, and in time, you may have friends."

Gold's eyes traveled from face to face. "Perhaps so."

"Good exercise, Doc," Hook clapped the psychiatrist on the back. "We all got something out of it."

"Smells like there's more to come," David sniffed the air. "I'd say Granny's Yankee pot roast and rosemary rolls."

Emma sniffed too. "And cherry pie. I know we're supposed to wait for Ruby to ring for us, but-"

"Yes, we can go in now," Archie allowed. "We've done a lot of important work today and we've earned our dinner. Let's go into the dining room and see if there's a salad we can start on. A good start, everyone." He stood back to admire them. "Much more than I could've asked for. A very good start."


	3. The Truthfulness Exercise

**This month's prompt: "You have a lot of nerve saying 'Hello' like nothing happened." Archie gambles on a risky final exercise, with results he's not fully prepared for.**

* * *

Archie had a secret. Not a very big one, certainly in comparison to the secrets unacknowledged in this very room, let alone in this town, but just the same, he'd prefer these people didn't find out. He didn't want them to lose confidence in him. So he tucked the two legal pads he'd been carrying under his arm, hooked his hands into his jeans pockets to hide the fingernails he'd bitten to the quick just now and plastering on an easy-going smile, he strolled into the game room.

Hook quirked an eyebrow and gave him a bit of a nod, but Emma, scowling at a trio of playing cards spread out before her, didn't break her concentration. Archie supposed he couldn't blame her: judging by the cards facing up, she had a difficult decision to make. He leaned in the entrance, allowing her to make it undisturbed; he hazarded a guess as to what her choice would be. She sucked in a breath and announced her decision: "Hit me." It was the choice Archie expected: she was an all-in kind of woman.

Hook lay a Jack atop her exposed cards. Groaning, she pushed back from the card table. "That's three you owe me, love." Hook winked at her. "I promise not to collect all at once."

Archie sauntered over to the table and peered down at the game-breaking Jack. "What were the stakes?"

"You don't want to know." Emma flicked the air, knocking the topic aside.

Hook shifted a bit in his chair so he could face both his companions at the same time. "Did all go well with my future in-laws, Doctor?"

Emma gave his shoulder a shove. "You know he can't talk about that. Confidentiality."

"That's correct. As agreed, this particular exercise is a private one. And entirely voluntary." Archie distracted them from his wavering smile by seating himself across from them. He took a moment, seemingly to admire the spacious room with its many entertainment offerings, ranging from the traditional—a chess game set up in the quietest corner, an unfinished jigsaw puzzle taking up a dining table near the entrance, mahjong near the fireplace and pachisi at the windows—to, anachronistically, an X-box at the other end of the room. "It seems Merlin had wide-ranging interests," he mused, and Hook murmured in the affirmative, but Emma pursed her lips slightly. He'd failed to take her in with his casual act. He supposed there would be no actual harm in revealing to her the reason for his discomfort—as close as mother and daughter had grown, Snow would probably tell Emma all anyway at lunch—but he'd laid down the confidentiality rule at the beginning of this exercise, so he needed to stick to it.

Besides, he expected to have to use it pretty quick.

Hook threw a glance over his shoulder at a miniature grandfather clock on the mantle. "This exercise must be a short one," he estimated. "You were with David and Snow less than an hour."

Truthfully, he'd been with David and Snow less than a half-hour, but after that, he'd retired to his bedroom to think—and chew his nails. Not that the exercise had gone badly—quite the opposite. It had turned out far better, he supposed, than he had prepared for. He'd kind of counted on his time with the Nolans as a chance for trial-and-error, to expose in a smaller and less dangerous way whatever bugs there were in the process, so he could fix them before he proceeded to the other two couples. The Nolans' exercise had taught him something, true, but most likely not something he could apply here.

"Well, then, shall we proceed?" He emboldened his smile.

"We're not going to get anything out of you about what David and Snow did, are we?" Hook surmised.

"Be glad of it," Emma tossed at her fiance. "He'll keep our secrets too."

Hook shrugged. "I was hoping to have some basis of comparison."

"So you could figure out how to win this round."

"It's not a contest," Archie reminded them as he pressed a key on his phone. "None of these exercises are. There's no right answer, no points to be assessed. That said, let's review the rules. Rule one-"

Emma counted it off on her forefinger. "Everything that happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

Hook supplied the next. "Tell the truth or keep your mouth shut. No pressure to participate."

"We gotcha, Arch. Let's hear the details."

A clattering in the hallway drew their attention. Using this distraction, Archie set the legal pads and a clutch of pencils in front of his clients, then hid his chewed fingernails under the poker table. "Just in time," Archie stood as Ruby rolled in a chalkboard. "Thank you, Ruby."

The waitress reached into her apron pocket for a box of chalk. "Here you go, Archie." The box was unopened; he hadn't had call to use the chalk during his time with the Nolans. "Lunch is in the stove. Ring me about ten minutes before you want it served."

"Sounds good."

She paused on her way out to inform Emma, "Grilled cheese and tomato soup."

"Thanks, Rubes."

After she'd gone, Archie moved over to the chalkboard. "Shall we proceed? Remember, after you hear what this exercise is about, you can say no. I have to admit, it could be risky. And this is only my second go-round with it."

"Ah ha," Hook snapped his fingers. "That means the Nolans blew it."

"Not at all," Archie snapped. Then he straightened his shoulders and selected a stick of chalk from the box. "The exercise works like this. I'll be posing a question. Well, an incomplete scenario, really. You'll fill in the missing dialog. And then we'll discuss ways that each couple can release those negative feelings and prevent them from returning."

"An all-day exercise, huh?" Hook wondered. "For most couples."

"It can certainly feel like it," Archie admitted. "You'll be emotionally drained and physically worn out by the end, but I think you'll sleep very well tonight, with your consciences clear. And we'll be taking a big step forward for the future."

Emma smiled at him encouragingly. "It sounds worth a risk."

"I'm putting up a sentence. . . a prompt. . . .I want you to read it, then think about it as it applies to your relationship. Take your time; think it through. In every relationship, no matter how close, no matter how loving, there are situations that never get dealt with. Perceived slights, unintentional insults, ill-phrased remarks that lead to hurt, and if the hurt isn't dealt with, it can grow into resentment. Bitter feelings that are never brought out to the light and discussed in a calm, healing way can become time bombs that explode when neither of you is equipped to cope."

Emma nodded, looking down at the pencils. "Sometimes when there's no chance to say you're sorry or that you forgive the other person." Archie suspected she was thinking of Neal.

"That's what I hope to accomplish here. If there are such time bombs in your relationship, to deal with one of them now, while we can focus on it and not muddle it up with other issues. I hope to teach you tools that you can use when you're out there, on your own."

"In the real world," Emma muttered. "With the Tamaras and the Gregs and the Zelenas that steal people away from you."

"So: read the sentence, think about it. Take all the time you need. Then on those pads, I want you to write out how you could finish the sentence." He raised his hands in a halt gesture. There was no hiding his broken nails now, but perhaps they wouldn't notice once he began to write on the chalkboard. "Again, if you find this becomes too uncomfortable, even painful, you can end the exercise at any time."

"And then what, Doc?" Hook wondered.

"We'll talk about something else. Something relevant but less dangerous." He turned his back to them and began to write. "But I'd appreciate it if you'd start this and see if you can continue."

The couple read the sentence aloud together: "'You have a lot of nerve saying "Hello" like nothing happened.'"

"Okay, so we're going to use that as a conversation starter," Hook affirmed, but his mouth fell open as his fiancee grabbed a pencil, hunched her shoulders and immediately began to write on her yellow pad. "Or, more like an argument starter."

"Don't think of it that way." Archie couldn't help himself: his thumb flew into his mouth and he began gnawing on the remainder of a fingernail as he too watched Emma scrawl sentence after sentence. "Think of it as a chance to fix things before they get irretrievably broken."

Hook tore his eyes away from Emma's flying pencil back to the chalkboard and he silently mouthed the prompt.

A crinkling of paper as Emma flipped to a second page.

With a long sigh, Hook picked up a pencil. He stared at his empty pad. He stared at the board. He stared at Emma again, trying to peer over her shoulder, until Archie cleared his throat in warning and Hook returned his attention to the chalkboard. Eventually he wrote a single word. He stared at it.

"There's no rush," Archie whispered to him. "It's more important that you put a lot of thought in this."

Hook's forehead wrinkled as Emma turned another page. "Uh, you did say, just one scenario, right?"

"Just one."

"I write big," Emma sniffed.

Hook stared at his single word again. He bit the eraser. His frown smoothed out and his eyes glazed over as he submerged himself in memories. Slowly, a second word appeared on his page, then a third, then a full sentence. His head bowed as he centered himself on the words.

Quietly, Archie wandered away from the chalkboard to look out a window. His heart was pounding in his chest with both hope and dread. Behind him he heard pages crinkling and chairs scraping. At least, this time the exercise was producing some results.

Well, perhaps, the experiment with the Nolans had, too. He'd settled them in the never-used nursery ("Why do you suppose Merlin would want a nursery? He never had any children, did he?" Snow had wondered.), where he thought they'd feel most at home, and with a chalkboard behind them and yellow pads before them to remind Snow of school, he'd explained the project. After fifteen minutes of blank stares, Snow had tossed her pencil aside and David had shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, Arch, I've got nothin'."

"Nothing?" Archie had echoed. He'd imagined all sorts of outcomes, but not this one.

"For me either," Snow had admitted.

"Something he did that upset you. Something that took a lot of nerve-Something he should have known better—something that he _did_ know better, but he did it anyway," Archie had urged. "Every couple has them. Violations that, left unspoken, can build into resentments."

"That's just it, Arch," David had volunteered. "Yeah, we have 'em; of course we do. Small crap like leaving the cap off the toothpaste-"

"Dirty dishes in the sink-"

"Dirty diapers in the kitchen garbage pail-"

"And bigger stuff. Yeah, we've been through a hell of a lot of stuff that could've broke us up. Sleeping curses. Curses on the town line. Memory loss."

"Our grandson being kidnapped. Finding out we _have_ a grandson, at age thirty," Snow had blinked. "Finding out we have a daughter as old as we are."

"Finding out we belong in another realm. In another _life_."

"That we're the rulers of a kingdom of two thousand people who are waiting for us to figure out what to do. And that we have magical enemies crawling out of the woodwork. Dragons and giants and abominable snowmen."

"There have no doubt been moments when each of you did something that the other resented-"

"Sure," David had stared at his hands in guilt. "I was a coward with Katherine. I knew what was the right thing to do and I didn't do it. And I made it a hundred times worse when I didn't stand up for Mary Margaret against that fake murder charge." He grasped Snow's hands. "I was a jerk and a coward and I'm sorry."

"We talked it out, though. And I know that coward wasn't really you. And when I went against what we'd decided together about Cora, and I cursed her and killed her, I was wrong and I paid the price for it. I should have listened to you. I'll never again chase after revenge."

"Me neither," David had confessed. "I went against your advice and chased after my father's killer, and look how that turned out. But that was the last time, I promise."

"It was, Archie," Snow had explained. "We learned our lesson. We're so much better as a team than we are apart. We make each other better. Keep each other from falling off the edge into the dark. We know that now. We respect what we have together."

"And we take care of our marriage. We talk things out. We apologize."

"We forgive and move on. We don't let resentments grow." Snow had pushed her legal pad away. "So no, Archie, there's nothing for me to write."

David had done the same. "Me neither."

After a long silence, Archie had gathered up the empty legal pads. "Snow, David, I'm happy to say, you have no need for this exercise. Perhaps all you really need today is just some peace and quiet together."

Snow had linked her arm through her husband's. "Do you know what I really want right now? Beyond the garden there, I saw the North Woods. I'd like to go for a long walk."

"Just us," David had agreed. They had stood up together. "If you're through with us, Archie?"

"I think a walk in the woods is exactly the right prescription."

"We'll come back when we get hungry."

"I think we're finished," Emma brought Archie back to the present.

He turned to find that while Hook had completed half a page in his small, sharp handwriting, Emma had worn down three pencils and filled her notebook with her large loops.

"Very good." Archie came away from the window and seated himself at the poker table. "Captain, suppose we start with you."

Plucking at his beard nervously, Hook read from his notes: "Okay. Now don't be pissy, Emma, right? We're uncovering the jetsam. So. . . . 'You have a lot of nerve saying "Hello" like nothing happened.' Like you didn't make me a Dark One and try to hide it from me by taking away my memories-"

Oh yes. Archie folded his hands as he listened, not only to each word, but to each word choice. Yes, there was work to do here.

And that was another of his secrets: Archie needed to be needed.

* * *

Lunch was three hours late. By the time Archie came round to the library to fetch them, Belle and Gold were both deep into books, hers _Undaunted Courage_ and his _Team of Rivals_. They were sharing a couch, her bare feet propped in his lap, his hand resting idly on her ankle. When Archie interrupted them, Belle was about to sit up and point out to Gold a quotation in her book. They both looked a bit annoyed initially at the interruption, but their expressions soon softened. With his damp hair clinging to his forehead and the creases lining his eyes, Archie suspected he looked tired. Well, he should: he'd earned it. But he was also holding his chin up in pride (and relief) that his experiment had proven successful: downstairs, in the chandeliered dining room, at the twelve-seat mahogany table, Emma and Hook sat side by side, just as drained as Archie, but still talking to each other. Fortunately, as he led the Golds into the dining room, Hook and Emma weren't talking about anything intimate or consequential.

Ruby was placing the last of the platters onto the dining table. By her suggestion, they would be eating family style, passing dishes back and forth and serving themselves. This egalitarian approach, along with the hearty American fare, would somewhat counteract the formality of the furniture. "Snow and Charming won't be joining you," Ruby said. "They packed a picnic."

With the Golds on one side of the table and the Swan-Joneses on the other side, Archie felt a bit squeezed in the middle of this huge table, but after some fortification from soup and salad, he felt sufficiently revived to attempt to create a conversation between the opposing forces. "So, Belle, what plans do you have for the library? I heard something about new computers?"

Emma's ears perked up at this news. "Good idea. Those PCs you have now are no better than Apple II-E's."

"I'm planning a fundraiser for the computers. I hope to buy ten for the public, plus one for a catalog and one for the circ desk," Belle was squirting ketchup onto her sandwich. "So after those arrive, we'll be starting some basic computer classes for adults, taught by Henry and some kids from the high school. As for the collection, I plan to develop a college and career prep center."

"With the curse lifted from the town line, our graduates will be wanting to move on to more opportunities in the big city," Archie remarked. "I'll be offering career counseling services."

Emma shot a quick glance at Hook. "Henry. He'll be graduating in two years."

Around a mouthful of pickle, Hook suggested, "I'm sure the lad will find all sorts of new adventures out there in the big wide world, as I did when I was young."

Emma fiddled with her spoon. "I'm not sure I want him out there in the big world."

"As nature intended, love. Mothers wish to hold on, but sons must make their mark upon the world."

Gold objected, "They don't always have to leave town to do that." Emma threw him a small smile. "I'm sure we could find plenty of opportunity for him here. But if he chooses to leave, he'll have all the support he needs. Financial and otherwise."

"Thank you, Gold."

Gold looked down into his soup bowl. "It's what I owe Bae."

Hesitating slightly, Archie decided that, after his earlier success, he could venture back into risky territory. If a bridge of common interests could be built between Emma and Gold, perhaps the animosity between Gold and Hook could be diminished. "I never really got to know Neal. Mr. Gold, I'm sure you have some stories about his growing up."

"Oh, yes, he has a thousand of them," Belle giggled. "Tell them about the time Bae roped the neighbor's bellwether." She reached out to touch Emma's hand. "It's hilarious. The roots of Bae's joy riding career."

Emma's eyes brightened and fixed on Gold. "I'd like to hear that. If you don't mind."

"I don't mind," he answered softly. "I'd rather like to tell it. Perhaps, afterward, you could share some of your memories?"

"Yeah, I could."

"Well, then." Gold scooted back from the table and settled more comfortably in his chair. "In our village there was a farmer who owned a very large, very ill-tempered ewe. . . ."

* * *

Lunch had ended on laughter. Encouraged, Archie sent Hook and Emma out for an afternoon of recreation, but summoned the Golds back to the library, where he thought they'd be most comfortable. "Saved the best for last, Archie?" Belle teased, but her voice was a little shaky.

Pushing the chalkboard ahead of him, Archie ducked the question, which he recognized as halfway serious. What she needed to hear from him was that in his professional assessment, her relationship with Gold was salvageable. After positioning the board, Archie stood back and brushed his chalk-dusted hands against his trousers. He happened to feel Gold's eyes upon him, and it made him nervous—Gold's cold stare always did, even though Archie had come to learn that the coldness was a facade. But to retain their confidence, he had to exude confidence of his own. Quite possibly, he was their last hope. So he steeled his spine and turned his head to look Gold in the eyes, and what he read there—in the eyes, not in the straight line of the mouth or the set of the jaw, but in the creases around the eyes, the slight elevation of the brows, and a certain shine in the pupils that could be burgeoning tears—gave Archie all the confidence he needed.

"We can do this," he assured them. "We _will_ do this, one step at a time." He motioned to the couch upon which he'd found them resting earlier; they accepted the implied invitation and sat down, somewhat primly (their posture, he noted, mirrored each other's). He'd learned from their first session that tea was important to them, a held over social convention from their Enchanted Forest days, a relaxant and a subconscious communication prompt, so he'd had Ruby bring in a fully loaded, formal tray, which was waiting on the coffee table. He scooted a comfortable chair up to the table and leaned forward, his hand on the teapot. "Shall I pour?" He didn't really need to ask; he always poured. It was part of the routine from their therapy.

"Thank you, Archie," they both said, accepting the tea he'd prepared precisely how they liked it. He allowed them a few moments to sip, and when they sat back in the cushions, he knew they were ready to begin.

"Resentment is the emotional bacteria that, if not expelled, will infect a relationship, possibly kill it," Archie began. "I believe that each of you harbors some powerful resentments. The two of you have hurt each other often enough."

To their credit, neither offered a denial. Belle took the brave first step. "Do you think we're strong enough to deal with this now? Our relationship, I mean; is it strong enough? Won't digging up the hurts of the past just drive us apart?"

Surprisingly, it was Gold who answered. "Ignoring the shadows of the past will only make them loom larger in the future." He stared into his teacup. "A lesson I learned from Milah, but all these years I've pretended didn't apply to me." So low Archie could barely hear him, he murmured, "Fear of what I might lose caused me to ignore the fact that I was losing everyone I loved."

"Yes." Archie leaned back in his chair. "You're strong enough." He stood up. "Although, yesterday's rules still apply: you can refuse to participate, but if you do participate, you'll tell the whole truth."

"No twisted words," Gold promised-in Archie's mind, unnecessarily. The sorcerer knew what was at stake this time: Gideon's kidnapping had been the flame that had burned down Gold's house of fantasy. Archie believed Belle realized that too; it was why she'd picked up the pieces of their marriage.

He distributed the pencils and legal pads, then crossed over to the chalkboard. "You'll be writing a continuation to a prompt." Belle's eyes brightened; they were in her wheelhouse now. "I'll write a starter sentence on the board; you'll finish it. The 'you' refers to your spouse." He turned his back long enough to put up the assignment, then he stood aside, giving them time to read it.

"'You have a lot of nerve saying "Hello" like nothing happened.'" Belle cast a hasty glance at her husband, who nodded.

"A greeting I've deserved, too many times." He handed her a pencil. "Go on, Belle."

"'You have a lot of nerve. . . .'" Belle stared at the blank page.

"Please," Gold urged.

Belle pressed the pencil to the paper.

As he had done for the other couples, Archie walked away to give them space. He strolled along the ceiling-high shelves, casually perusing the book titles, until he found one that caught his attention and he brought it down. He read the first paragraph; it kept his interest and he read a second. He'd just settled down in an armchair to begin the second chapter of _The Personal Dreams of Carl Jung_ when Belle called him over. "I'm finished, Archie."

He set the open book aside with the intention of returning to it at bedtime. A glance at her face prompted him to reach into his vest pocket for the package of Kleenex he always carried, but Gold had already beaten him to it, offering her his handkerchief. Her body language revealed her to be caught between anger and guilt; she needed to cry, but she drew upon her childhood lessons and held herself firm. Without urging, she picked up her notepad and read, "You have a lot of nerve saying 'Hello' like nothing happened. I know you love me. I don't doubt that. I love you too. And I wanted so much to help you, after everything Zelena put you through, and after Bae—after she murdered Bae. When you proposed to me, I thought, this is the beginning of the healing. You'll realize how much I love you and I'll never leave you, and you'll trust me, confide in me, and I can take care of you. But from the beginning the marriage was a lie. You swore your love for me on a fake dagger, so that you could go behind my back and kill Zelena. Did you really think I would never find out? Was the proposal even real? Did you really want to marry me, or was that a manipulation too? And while I was sleeping in ignorant bliss, you got up out of our honeymoon bed to plot how you could get more power. You made a deal, Rumple, a deal that would leave this entire town shattered by madness. You were going to snatch Henry away from his mothers and cart us off to New York, never to return. You would have even lied to us about how they all died, wouldn't you? You imprisoned the fairies. You made a slave out of Hook. You would've stolen Emma's magic if she'd let you. And all this time you left me sleeping, when all I ever wanted to do was to love you. I could've helped you, Rumple, but you wouldn't let me. You hid yourself from me. None of the torment we've been through would've happened if your proposal had been real."

She let the notepad drop to the coffee table.

Archie held his breath. She'd thrown down the gauntlet; they waited for Gold to respond. Gold had three choices: he could deny Belle's interpretation of events. He could make excuses—lord knows, after all he'd been through, he had a warehouse of valid excuses. But neither of those two choices would be the one to move the couple a step towards closure. Gold had a history of wrong choices, a genealogy of wrong choices; he needed to fight the impulse to try to take the easy way out. If only he could realize that in the long run, the difficult way could prove to be the easy way.

Gold was staring at his hands as if they were foreign objects. Was he thinking about the magic they contained? The magic that had fed him, protected him, kept him alive all these years? Or was he thinking about the Dark voices behind the magic, Nimue's and Zozo's and the others, and the black voice of the bullied and twice-abandoned little boy who wanted to lash out in broken-hearted anger?

"I did." They could barely hear him. He let his hands fall to his knees and looked up at Belle. "I did all those things," he said more clearly. "I hurt you, I hurt Henry, I hurt Gideon and I dishonored Baelfire's memory. I was wrong and I regret all the pain I caused you. And I know my promises are meaningless now, but I will fight with my last breath to be truthful with you."

Archie released his breath. Whatever happened next, whatever choice Belle made, Gold would be better now. Not healed, not good, but better. And with each step his way would be easier.

"I think you have been. I forgive you." Belle squeezed his hand, then looked to Archie. "It still hurts like hell."

"It will, for a long time," Archie said. "But it will get better."

"I do mean it: I forgive you. But it's kind of hard to feel it under all the anger and injured pride."

"This is something we'll work on," Archie assured her. To give them a moment to decompress, he refilled their teacups, then he sat back and pointedly looked at Gold's notepad. "Mr. Gold. You've written nothing."

"I had thought I have nothing to resent."

"Not even when I exiled you?" Belle pressed.

"It was a just punishment. And you made the town safe from a monster who had grown out of control. But I see now, this isn't the whole truth." He raised the legal pad. "It's true that I was hurt by some of the things you did, but I never blamed you, sweetheart. I thought I deserved it all, and worse. Until. . . ." The first page of his legal pad suddenly filled with writing in a language neither Belle nor Archie could recognize. Gold lay the notebook onto the coffee table beside hers and took her hands in his. "In the Underworld, when I learned that we were going to be parents, I sincerely tried to change, to be truthful with you. Circumstances conspired against me; my past caught up with me and again I failed repeatedly to make the right decisions, but I was honest with you. As much as I could be, after three hundred years of deception. You wouldn't listen. I understand why, but when you shut me down, I felt that I was alone again, that saving Gideon was all on my shoulders, and I fell back on lies and deals. It worked, Belle, didn't it? I freed us from Hades. I couldn't see why you wouldn't listen to me, when it seemed my solutions were working. I could have freed Gideon from his fate too. I still think, if I'd used the Shears—but we didn't discuss it or anything else. You ran away from me when we should have been working together to save our son. And in the end, rather than let me anywhere near him, you sent him away. You sent our son away."

Archie held his breath again. This was Belle's test; whether the relationship would take another step forward was up to her now. She was twisting the handkerchief instead of using it to cope with her tears. "I should have known you would never hurt him. I did know; after all you went through to rescue Bae, twice sacrificing yourself to keep him alive. You would have done no less for Gideon. But I was hurt and angry and full of fear, and I listened to the darkness in me instead of looking into your heart. Please, Rumple, say it. For yourself, as well as our marriage, you need to say it."

To Archie's surprise, Gold blurted, "Yes, I'm angry. I'm angry at you, Belle, for sending our son away, and with her. Knowing how I feel about fairies, and why, yet you gave our son to her, to the Ruel Ghorm, and look what happened. We almost lost him forever. And we may never know the full extent of the lasting harm that his time with my mother did to him." Archie had seen him angry, had seen him confused, had seen him aching, but he'd never seen Gold express such naked pain. "He's my son too. He needs me too. You can't shut me out of his life."

"You're right. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"That's right, you weren't. You could have easily protected him from everything-the Shears, from my mother, from me-just by driving out of Storybrooke, away from the magic, safe from all this crap. I'm angry, Belle, that you would have taken my son away from me."

Bravely, she accepted his criticism and Archie could breathe again. "You have a right to be angry. I was wrong. And I will never again forget that Gideon needs you in his life just as much as he needs me."

It was disconcerting, Archie thought, to see raw hope in the Dark One's eyes. Few people even recognized the sorcerer as a man, with a heart as vulnerable as their own. "We'll talk things out, from now on. I'll let you in and you won't shut me out. Can we do that, Belle? And if we can't mend our marriage, at least we can give Gideon his best chance."

"We have to try." Belle offered a watery smile. "I want us to give us our best chance too."

* * *

He had no idea where Gold had acquired a cell phone, but in the morning, as he joined the couples for a farewell breakfast, Archie spotted the pawnbroker out in the garden, flagrantly violating the no-phone rule. Ah well. The weekend was over, anyway. Archie walked into the kitchen, paused to sniff at Ruby's special blend of coffee percolating on the stove, then reached into a cupboard for the box of confiscated electronics. He carried it on his hip back into the dining room.

"Ah, back to modern civilization, I see." Hook fished his phone out first. "I've missed you, Angry Birds."

Emma distributed the rest and she and David immediately checked their text messages. "Hey, the town survived without us." She turned her phone around to show her father there were no messages. Then she frowned. "Nothing from Henry. Do you think he-"

"I think he's been studying for his semester finals, like he was supposed to," David assured her.

Snow had a finger poised to dial. "Archie, is it okay-"

"It's okay. Tell them you'll be home right after breakfast."

Ruby backed into the dining room, her arms burdened with a fully loaded serving tray. "Doctor, there's a helicopter coming."

"A _helicopter_?" Archie scrambled over to a window to examine the skies. "Nope, I don't see-"

Ruby set the tray down and tugged at her earlobe. "Yeah, but I _hear_. The wolf thing, you know. It's about five miles off."

The garden door swung open and Gold sauntered in. "That would be Mr. Dove with Gideon."

David grunted. "You're taking a helicopter back to Storybrooke? Gold, it's only five miles."

Snow finished her phone call. "A little over-anxious to see the baby, are you?"

Belle, with a suitcase in each hand, appeared in the dining room just in time to explain, "We're not going home yet. We thought we'd extend our holiday and see Boston." She set the suitcases down and came to her husband's side, accepting his arm around her waist. "We have some catching up to do."

Gold informed Archie, "We'll be back on Thursday in time for our appointment."

"You've got time for breakfast with us, don't you?" Snow urged. "After Ruby went to all this effort."

"Of course," Belle said.

Emma reached across the table to snatch a strip of bacon from the platter. "Sounds like another winner, Doc. Three for three. We'll have to do this retreat thing again sometime."

"Maybe when the babies are a little older," Snow suggested. "Hook, would you pass the toast?"

Archie leaned back as the bowls and plates started making their way around. He gave himself a mental pat on the back as the Golds sat down, side by side, and the sorcerer picked up the platter of pastries. "Bear claw, Ms. Swan?" After Emma had speared one, Gold offered the platter to Hook. "Captain?"

After a moment to recover from his shock, Hook helped himself to a Danish. "Thank you, C—Gold. Some toast?"

"Three for three," Archie mused. "I do believe so." The entire group laughed—even Gold chuckled—at a joke David shared, and Archie nodded to himself. "It's a start. A very good start."


End file.
